getting (heck)

 

growl forever
into oblivion

we are freed
from obligation 

duty bound to
our vices. excess.

drink from the skull
of plenty. one soul

in exhalations
weaning off the humanity.

screech, and be
merry. we've waited a long time.

we're only here now,
only wailing. only scratching away.

only getting closer
to the end of the line.

 

giving (heck)

i write simple sonnets
and only some are sometimes impressive.
only sometimes. unwind the broken clock
two times backward, one time forward

i believe that one day the dream we were 
promised will arrive in 15 minutes or it
will be free. it better still be warm
or i'm going to social media for them to

feel my wrath. feel the depth
of my disappointment. then i'll
revisit the clock's accuracy
resync myself into the person i want to be

it's always some other version
i'm not sure i'll ever get it right.

nocturne (in mono)

 

sleep, sit with me.
ashen path to 
nowhere, night time
and the dull glow
of the horizon meeting
another today's 
tomorrow.

hold me to 
it, this slumber,
and the dreams
that come with
it. something is
going to assert
itself within me

any time now.

aberration

i don't want you to search out the words that 
call to you
avoiding the rest of the good word
i'm using to litter the poem
good word or words in the grand
scheme we are all doing a lord's
work. 

my lord
my stars
my my

i want you to understand
this holy mess
was begat
begotten 
been given----
a name
an image
for it
to face eternity
and you'll still
wish against it
on whatever star
you cling to

my my
my love
my own

know that i
write you a letter
to preach good words
and i'll know
you'll find whatever
word you think is
good enough
and that will just
be 
the way this word
is passed. mine
will be
yours

anyone testing a viable solution must

make sense.
arrange logic on 
its axis. add one
to another. add 
another one to
make a home.
repeat with
another variable.
high strung and 
unstrung. these
strings will not
play themselves. no
amount of music to
make a clean melody
not the music
we grew up on. i
am still making
sense of
what we've
created. 

projecting

grown out of
dirt and left in 

the sun's waning moments
before i let the

growing shadow
catch up to

this game of waiting

we've been playing

this whole time.

housekeeping and keeping house

 

so will you see what i told you for what it/is/for what it was/for the sake of/anyone else but/yourself/i can tell/you/i will give you some simple arithmetic/plus and/minus/i want you to know/this was never about/subtracting anything/away from our/lives/just

living through/something/oh yes/surviving the/times/i want you to/know this/is/ just/how it goes when/you commit yourself to/something larger/than/

yourself/you me them us/i could be/anything/i want to be/

everything/always/right

now/

clearinghouse house clearing

 

drops in a/bucket/lynch pin/pulled//too much of a good thing and/too much/pepper/we’ll see the limits-won’t we/dressed in the stained smocks of/inaction/in essence we are/incapacitated/not every line is a verse/not every verse is a/hymn/not any hymn is a bop//dark times/we’ll get them/just yet/soon enough/once we are called/off of the couch/no longer resting on our/laurels/the hibernation ends/when we-when we won’t/what/will/we’ll know/soon enough/

keepsake

 

the trinkets lost in translation
lost in the waves or to the masses
and i am sure to be disappointed
little treasures never hold their
value
the new car of
sentimental possessions
to be possessed
to be held
hold me now
i will be whatever your heart desires
in this moment
the little reprieve
the constant co-conspirator
or the ring that saves your ever-loving
soul
hold me then and hold me now
and i'll do my best
to be the same as that first
glowing moment where
we met one another
and anything was
somehow possible

Nocturne

 

penitent/my devotion has a first name/it’s (redacted)/my devotion ends in the wail of a car alarm/a five alarm fire/know the sense i’ve lost between the spaces/under a margin of error/i can’t believe it’s not/(what it is)what is it/what have you done and/do what you will/some friendly revision or something more sinister/they buried my hero not far from here/not crowley/though i hear he’s near too/i guess that brings down the property values/my hero is/my hero lives under a shanty town grave/nameless/i will say no name and mean his/forever and ever/amen/world with(out) end/until it’s done/

shoutz 7.5

 

screed

as a wail.

pitch, angelic

at dusk. by moon’s

light, by a dimmer switch

nailed to a tree like jesus.

nature becomes us. let it

take back my living room

with grass and fungus and

tree branches knotting through

the flat screen and the attached components

for entertainment. for existence.

touchdown!

everyone will get what they want

in the end,



i promise.

finite haiku

 I’ve been doing a newish series of zines called infinitehaiku and this was a small cycle that didn’t fit but I enjoyed enough to share.

methodical call

dial tone bleating call sign

save this sinking ship

look over the waves

at sea, no shoreline in sight

at the tide’s mercy

preserver preserved

only room for one of us

you will see this through.

leave on a jet and

 

a day was a year/this song was a jam/i was happier then/that way/this time/was then was a a moment/this was that time/right now/right then/and i wished my life were in sepia/i was lost in the reverie of the color palette/keep me honest with/less than before/a year was a day and nothing was changing/i was the same as i am/i should have taken the bus//

shoutz 7

 another one from "shoutz."

the floor’s still creaking.

singing what i hope is

your arrival. homecoming,

fanfare and the appropriate

heralding of a trumpet,

of a procession, half-starved

but grateful. half-gone but

returned. wholly transformed.




i can only hope

it’s you. what’s been so long,

still feels like fresh blood

down the scratched spot,

broken free.

each centimeter swallowed

by its path, each crack

of the living room. you’re

out there, i’ve never been

more sure.




let the groans of this

quiet house

lead you back
home.

shoutz pt 1

later start to the morning than usual. i make these folders on my comp and write to a vibe or a concept for a while and "shoutz" is the latest one. i may post a few of these in the coming weeks.

calamity and cavernous thunder
spectral pyrotechnics 
across a braindead sky
these poltergeist will prey
across the arc of lightning
keeping things honest
in howling made fresh as wounds
as bread baked daily. fade away
when you’re ready, perfect 
crust. just warm enough.
home as a hell
loud enough for two
but it is solely for you.
good enough
through rattled bone and 
wind and the whole thing
moves with purpose. just so